


Allies

by threewalls



Series: Schirra [41]
Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: 707 OV, Balfonheim, F/M, Grief, Night, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-10
Updated: 2008-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-14 19:54:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threewalls/pseuds/threewalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><cite>It's become a habit, to check his fingers.</cite></p><p>Post-Pharos spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Allies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lassarina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lassarina/gifts).



> Written for the prompt: Ashe, Balthier and green-blue.

Beyond the bolted, barred, blinded windows of the room she'd taken exists a raucous cacophony punctuated at odd intervals by sprays and spatters of multicoloured light; the wind is seaward and less said about the smell, the better.

Ashe feels startlingly awake now, calm, poised. The corridor is darker than her room, and somehow quieter, though the revel downstairs, extending from the manse's great foyer down the pier into town, pulses through the floorboards. She knocks, pushes on his door, it's locked, and then knocks again.

Balthier grips the door, his elbow balanced against the doorjamb. He fills the doorway, so she can't see inside, but he must have left his blinds open. The reflected fireworks spark on his cheek. Despite the hour, Balthier wears the same clothes he wore earlier, dusty trousers, the creased white shirt taut across his shoulders. He isn't wearing a vest, leaving his collar and the first several of his shirt buttons undone, necklaces she hasn't seen before overlaying his collarbone. He isn't wearing any rings at all. It's become a habit, to check his fingers.

Ashe wants to tell him that she dreamt of her husband. Not that shimmering Occurian aqua, but warmth and skin and when she finally lifted the sword, he turned to blood instead of light. She wants to tell him what her husband said. Balthier destroyed his father; he would understand. She opens with potential strategies for the final battle, weapons to buy, lines to form: they are allies.

"I've already said we'll fly you to Vayne's bloody battleship. Can't this wait for the morning?" Balthier rubs his eyes. They don't seem red, but Ashe hasn't cried yet. "Fran's not feeling well."

Fran flew them back to Balfonheim, outrunning Mist and the storm, while Balthier stared at the shifting line of the horizon, but Ashe knows what he means. A hallway isn't private, and neither, he is saying, is his room. This isn't the time. They can grieve after the war is won.

Later, Ashe watches the sun rise, alone on her bed.


End file.
